


Dream Weaver (Dream Series, Part 8)

by xof1013



Series: Dream Series [8]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Slash, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-28
Updated: 2010-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xof1013/pseuds/xof1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When another discovers…and decides.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Weaver (Dream Series, Part 8)

**Author's Note:**

> Original Author's Note - I may be the first ever to do this pairing (3some) – if so, I hope to hell it works!!! Lol… Set just after Season Two ends – so it's speculation on my part as to how this could happen. If it greatly differs from Season Three Canon, even as a missing scene – then I withhold the right to call this story an AU from the rest of the Dream series as a whole. I recommend new readers read the other seven stories in this series, "Only. Everything." - "Drifting" - "On Dreams of You" - "Mind's Eye" - "Home" - "Sense and Sensation" – "The Longest Dream." Huge huggles to Alexis for the beta.
> 
> Warnings: Spoilers for US QAF - through Season 2.

Dream Weaver

(Dream Series, Part 8)

by xof

 

\---------

Funny the thoughts that can run through your mind when all you want to do is NOT think.

Not think, not remember. Hell, not even acknowledge that anything is wrong.

That anyone is missed. Or that another someone was out of your reach....

Blue lights radiated behind his lids, a vision of fading flashes that echoed as Brian tried closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. Any second now, and he wouldn't have to try. His consciousness would be forced, subdued by that sweet little pill he'd taken only minutes before. And then he'd be out, asleep. At peace.

Until he woke up again....

Then it would all come crashing down in that first moment of clarity, and he'd have to get up and face another day. Another day trying to become unaccustomed to sharing his home, to not having the familiar to touch. Both avenues for it cut off, one to loss and the other to commitment. Both sources of comfort that he'd gained despite his distain for needing them as such, out of his compass.

Day and night. Nights spent without the sun, and days.... The days so dark with the absence of ebony.... Two shades of hair, each flirting across his mind's eye with every weighted moment of being alone.

Brian shook his head, trying to stop his mind from running down that path. He couldn't help but smile bitterly at the irony. He'd always told Michael that his friend got so maudlin when he was high, and here he was sprouting off blurry-minded nonsense that would have made his college advertising professors flinch.

Just stop thinking. That's want he wanted. He'd tried fucking himself into oblivion, drinking and sniffing too. But mostly all that had garnered him was a great sense of weariness. His body was tired, and his mind wouldn't shut the fuck up. On and on...

His sleeping was sporadic, and his dreams rode him hard when he did.

A weird parody of an anti-drug campaign flashed through his brain, 'Drugs kill your dreams.'

"Don't I fucking wish," he grouched in a murmur that was slurred slightly by the pill's pull.

Sighing as the minutes ticked by, Brian finally shifted over the threshold of unconsciousness. A pause that lasted only for a bit, and then his full lips opened on a moan. He shifted on the bed and dislodged the sheet until his nude body lay bared to the room. Rolling over, Brian sighed as his groin met the soft friction of the bedding.

In the unreality of his dream state, nothing was solid. Nothing was tangible for longer than a moment, just brushes of touchtastefeeling that heightened the sensation of his own skin made damp and sensitized with wanting more. He wasn't alone. There was a man against him. But who.... Brian couldn't see. The room, if he was in a room, was dark. But with each touch, each contact with the other man . . . Brian caught a backlit flash of light that shown over their bodies in a warm glow. But the touch, the way it felt - was familiar.

The body against his own was one he knew, had known time and again.

Brian knew he was dreaming. Knew also that he, the man who shouting out the need for "new," was caught in the web of wanting what was "known." What was needed....

But who, in the unfocused pull of his body and mind, it was he did not know. Which of the two he 'knew' so well. Wanted so much. Brian tried to 'see' but couldn't beyond knowing the man was compact, slim with pale skin that was flushed with sweat and heat. His ears refused to hear any sound above the rushing of his own pulse. And then all that Brian knew was skin against skin, cock riding over cock as their hips thrust together. Brian's head was buried against the man's shoulder as he sucked and bit at the salty skin, and moaned as strong legs encircled his waist.

In the instant that their shared oblivion did come, the air surrounding them warmed with a glow that radiated out from the man under Brian's body. And light filled Brian's sight. His body seized up, and all the things he did not know - all the questions as to who it was he was with, who it was he needed to make him feel "known" again - battered Brian's consciousness like a storm. He felt the hair on the man's chest, heard the sound of his name - his secret name - being cried aloud and saw the sweep of ebony hair as the man threw back his head and came.

Jerking, shaking with the power of his orgasm - Brian clung to him. Gasping as the pleasure screamed through his veins, gasping out the name. Calling out as he awoke to emptiness and wet sheets.

Calling, "Michael."

* * * * * * *

"Brian!"

Nothing - no response as they manhandled their way through the Babylon crowd, and again Michael tried to get his friend's attention. "Brian, wait!"

Ben indicated that he'd meet Michael upstairs - one of them going left and the other right, both trying to corner the illusive Kinney before he managed to make his escape. Or rather, before he managed to not fall on his ass as he stumbled about - seemingly hell bent on avoiding them both. Like he'd been doing for days.

It had been a week since "Rage" - a week since Justin left the party with some curly haired youth that Ben hadn't ever met but had heard of from Michael. A week of seeing Michael grow more and more concerned for the total lack of communication with Brian. Of seeing him torn between happiness that Ben was staying, and worry for his friend.

Ben sighed, spying Brian against the rail . . . watching him weaving back too close to the edge as some twink tried to shove a hand down the man's pants. Drunk and drugged off his ass, and still Brian could pull 'em in. Not that Ben didn't understand the appeal. Had experienced it first hand. Twice. Brian Kinney was a man who pulled with a look, even looking half-conscious like he did now.

Reaching their side, Ben swiftly turned the twink away as he pulled Brian away from the rail. The man's balance faltered. He tripped against Ben, having to be held up until he caught his footing again. "Well, look 'ere. 's honest Abe. Oh wait, 's Big Ben. Why aren't you home with the little wife?"

Ben bit back a retort, telling himself to ignore the displaced sarcasm. "Brian, you're the one going home. You can barely walk."

Brian stuck his face in Ben's snidely saying, "Fuck you. I am home." He snickered out a laugh, shaking his head as the sound fell into the techno beat of the music. Suddenly serious, Brian shook Ben's hand away and looked at the floor with a frown. He murmured words that Ben didn't catch other than, "beautiful" and "forever." He closed his eyes, zoning to the pounding rhythm - a clear dismissal of Ben's presence.

However, Ben wasn't to be so easily ignored. Not when he knew how important the man was to Michael. And not when even he could see so clearly that Brian was in pain. Even assholes could suffer. Sucking in a breath as if calling for an inner sense of calm that sometimes escaped even him, Ben put a hand on Brian's shoulder - meeting his eyes when Brian turned back to look at him. "Shutting Michael out, shutting out everyone who cares about you is not going to get you over this any faster. It just makes you more isolated and alone."

Brian jerked back from the touch, anger seemingly adding to his clarity of thought. "What business is it of yours?" He blinked for a moment, looking distracted as if he's had said that before.

"It's my business, because Michael is my business. You won't answer his messages, when you're in the same room with him - it's like you're not even there. He's worried about you, Brian. And you won't even give him the time of day." When he saw that Brian wasn't going to answer, Ben continued. "It's not just Michael, either. Lindsay's wor...."

In the middle of Ben's sentence, Brian took a step back - his skin soaked with sweat and eyes blinking rapidly as if he were struggling to stay awake. He put an arm out, not reaching for anything consciously and was startled when another hand took his. Turning his head despite the sluggishness of his brain, Brian looked at the other man now at his side.

"Brian?"

Michael.

Ben watched as Michael put an arm around Brian's waist, as he looked at the man with eyes full of worry. Brian opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it and gulped in a breath. Ben frowned as he watched Brian, noticing the sway of his body and the way his legs refused to stay locked beneath him. With a surprised shout, Ben hurried to Brian's other side just was Brian fell into Michael. Both men, breathing hard and anxious, looked as Brian gave a laugh and then nothing . . . just deadweight in Ben's strong arms.

"Ben? Shit, what..." Michael was frantic, scared as he watched Brian so still.

Ben eased Brian to the floor, checking his breathing - deep, color - pale and pulse - strong and steady. "Get some water Michael, he's just passed out." Just a moment seemed to pass, and Michael was back with a bottle of water. Ben slapped at Brian's cheeks, pouring water over his forehead and down his neck. "Wake up, Brian. Come on."

Michael's call joined in, "Brian. Open your eyes, Brian." He gasped as Brian murmured a protest, and opened his eyes - squinting against the flashing glare of Babylon's light show.

"Mikey?" Brian reached up and touched Michael's face, before closing his eyes again.

"Oh no, you're up now, Brian. Michael, help me get him outside." Together Ben and Michael managed to get Brian down the stairs, carrying his weight as they descended - his arms over their shoulders. Michael caught a cab, and they both worked to get Brian on the backseat. Ben took the front and Michael stayed in the back with Brian sprawled over his lap.

Michael gave the address to the driver, holding Brian as the man pulled Michael's arms around him and closed his eyes again. The rest of the drive was in silence.

* * * * * * *

Ben stayed behind once they got to the loft, making the excuse that he'd see to paying for the cab. All this was accomplished with just a nod of his head, indicating that he'd soon follow. He hadn't spoken since leaving Babylon, and for all the acknowledgement he received - Ben was pretty sure Brian didn't even remember he was there with them.

Brian was awake enough to walk with little help, but he still leaned on Michael as they disappeared behind the front door of his building. The last image Ben had was Brian's hand buried in Michael's hair, the flash of light from the street lamp shining off the white shells around his wrist. And then the loud bang of the door closing.

Taking a moment to breath in fresh air, letting the cool night air fill his lungs - Ben sighed as he stood in the dark. The last few days had been a whirlwind. He'd decided not to go to Tibet, to stay with Michael. The celebration of Michael's comic, the dull thud of Brian's breakup with Justin and the effect it had vicariously on Michael. Ben was thankful he'd decided not to leave; glad to be able to lend his support as Michael tried to reach through Brian's defenses. But he wasn't blind....

He understood how Michael felt about Brian. He'd told Ben he loved Brian, wanted him. And Ben, all he could do was respond as truthfully as he could. That loving someone from your past didn't preclude you loving someone else in the present. In the now....

He'd watched Michael. Watched Michael with Brian, watched Brian with Michael. And he'd come to understand why their relationship didn't cause him the anxiety that everyone expected him to feel. Why it didn't raise the ire of jealousy the way he'd heard it had in Michael's former lover.

The reason was it all seemed too familiar to his own experience.

Looking back to a time he'd tried to forget, Ben knew he'd had his own 'Brian' when younger.

Steve McClain.

Sixteen and every bit the full scope of Ben's world when he was the same age. Steve was the jock, to Ben's dork. New in town, dark hair in waves down to his collar and olive tanned skin from hours spent in the sun. Green eyes that shone with easy laughter and teasing taunts that made Ben blush with every visit. His new next-door neighbor, and by their mothers' mutual agreement he was told to show Steve the tour of town. Ben hadn't been able to speak a full sentence for the first hour in the youth's presence. Hadn't been able to speak at all, upon being play tackled to the ground once they'd reached the park. He'd just stared up into Steve's face, gasping and amazed. Soaking up the friendship and interest for all it was worth.

Two years of friendship, affection - touching and play. They'd never gone further than a drunken kiss before their senior year. And then on a summer's night, before Ben was to leave for college. And Steve for university. They crossed the unspoken line. That night's passion, the wonder of having everything he'd wanted made real - it had changed Ben. He'd gained the confidence to find himself and fight for his goals. But what he'd lost was Steve. They'd awoken to awkwardness and quick goodbyes. And over the next year they'd lost contact. Unanswered letters, no returned phone calls. Steve's family moved away. And Ben forced himself to forget what he knew had been the first love of his life.

The first, though not his greatest. But as fate would have it, he'd lost that one too - years later. Before Michael, and in the wake of his diagnosis.

And here was Michael, having found both in the same man. Ben admired him for the strength of his loyalty and love. Because he knew what most others didn't. He understood that Michael's love for Brian was not a weakness, but his greatest strength. To have the ability to care, to keep and to hold Brian in his heart despite time, and their opposing natures - was astounding.

There was no doubt in Ben's mind that Michael loved him, but Ben wasn't blind, and despite what others like Ted and Emmett thought - he was sure something had happened between the two men. The touches, the kisses - the want that shown in their eyes at times when they both thought others would not see. It was obvious in even a quiet moment like the ride over; the way Brian had held Michael's arms - had accepted the comfort of his touch - all walls fallen in the wake of Michael's care.

Lines blurring in and out, but still in place so that 'now' wasn't a threat to 'tomorrow.'

The irony that Michael's nature held more true to Ben's own acquired philosophy of living in the 'now,' was not lost. Taking another breath of air, Ben followed them inside.

* * * * * * *

"Brian, would you just stop playing around and get in bed." The exasperation of Michael's voice rung through the loft as he struggled to take off the man's shirt. The progress was slowed by Brian's intentionally obstructive attempts to hug him. "Stop it, Brian. Actually resisting being undressed, now there's a headline." Michael grumbled as he pushed Brian back to sit on the bed, tearing the tee over his head when Brian lost his footing.

Brian reached out and pulled at Michael's waistband, trying to make him come onto the bed too. He was coherent now at least, but still fuzzy minded. What he knew was that he was near Michael and clothes were scattering. Well, his were.... Michael's still needed to go. With another yank, Brian plopped back and took Michael with him as they fell to the bed.

"Brian, stop. You need to sleep." Michael sounded half desperate, torn between wanting to touch Brian and knowing Ben was coming in. Wondering why he wasn't already here with them. He managed to flip Brian over and pull his jeans down his legs, before he was rolled under his friend with a grunt.

Frowning as Michael tried to stop him from taking off his shirt, Brian murmured, "Want to see you."

Michael gasped, "Bri... We can't."

"Shhh, Mikey. Not Brian. Sandy. Your Sandman." Brian wouldn't be detoured, pulling Michael to him and silenced the man's next protest with a kiss. So sweet, to have his taste again - to feel him melting on a moan as Brian slipped inside to lick over his tongue. This was what he'd needed, what he'd been missing. What he wanted to know again.

Pulling back, Michael struggled both with himself and against Brian. He managed to turn onto his side, still held against Brian's chest - feeling the hard-on nestled against his ass through the fabric of his clothes.

"Don't want to think, Mikey. Just want to dream with you. Can't we, Mikey? Can't we dream again." Brian's words sounding painfully in the stillness of the room, his hot breath gusting wetly against Michael's neck. Feeling Michael still, freezing in his arms - Brian said sadly, "I hate drifting through this nightmare alone."

One word, one name - broke through the haze of Brian's mind. Michael's voice - frightened and low as he gasped, "Ben?"

Turning his head, Brian saw the outline of a man through the slats of his bedroom walls. Ben, watching them from only a couple feet away. And what he saw - Brian almost naked, Michael with his clothing askew and shirt opened - wrapped against Brian's body. The things he must have heard. And what it meant would not happen.... Brian, groaned. "Fuck." He let go of Michael, rolling to lie on his side away from the chaos that was about to hit - curled within himself with his eyes closed.

He didn't see Michael scramble off the bed, just felt the void ebbing wider as the weight of his friend's body lifted from the mattress. If he could have closed his ears, he would have. All the while berating himself for forgetting for a moment the 'why' behind his trying to stay away from Michael. The 'who' that prevented him from losing himself in his friend's arms. Shit....

* * * * * * *

"Ben, please. Let me...." Michael stumbled down the steps, trying to reach Ben before he could turn and leave. Missing in his haste, that Ben wasn't leaving. He was thinking, processing the confirmation of what he'd suspected.

"We don't... It doesn't touch our real.... Ben, look at me." Michael's voice dropped to a whisper.

Eyes locked on Brian's huddled back, Ben turned his gaze to Michael as his last words dropped into silence. Anxious, scared, desperate - all those emotions raced across Michael's face.

Emotions he'd never wanted to induce in Michael. There was no enticement in his heart for the negativity his lover's worried expression held. Not when he knew now what was true. What must have been true before he'd entered Michael's life. This, all this - was a part of them. A part of the loving man that Michael had grown to be....

The man who loved him in the face of death. And who would love Brian after he was gone....

"Ben, this hasn't…."

"Dream weaver." Ben's voice broke through Michael's anxious plea. He shook his head in realization. A way to get through the pain, to appease the need and find the comfort and pleasure they denied in the light of day.

"What?" Frowning, Michael stepped back as Ben advanced closer. Two steps and he was cornered against one of the supports that framed Brian's bedroom.

Speaking gently, Ben said, "A moment out of time. It's what you both do, what you've created together."

Michael ducked his head, eyes locked at Ben's chest as he heard the roar of his own pounding heart. He was confused by Ben's reaction. After all, he knew the fire that could burst forth when the man was angry. And there was none here. "Not since… I wasn't going to…" His words were cut off with a kiss.

Ben pressed his lips to Michael's, ending the half stutter of scattered thought. The kiss was slow, meant to impart his lack of anger. To ease worry. Pulling back, Ben said nothing for a time. Instead, he reached down and pulled the tails of Michael's half opened shirt from his pants. One button at a time, each was freed. Michael's eyes widened as Ben slipped the fabric off his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Michael's words sounded forth in a rush.

Taking Michael's arm, Ben turned his lover until they both faced the blue light of Brian's bed. He looked at Brian, seeing that he'd sat up and was listening to them – a perplexed frown on Brian's face. A nod in his direction and Ben leaned in to answer Michael's question. With a deliberate pull at the man's waistband, opening Michael's pants as he pushed a hand in to feel the hard-on that still lingered there – Ben said, "Helping you."

When Michael shivered under the molding touch of Ben's hand through his briefs, Ben added. "Both of you."

Michael gasped, his eyelids fluttering as Ben touched him. Movement from the bed caused him to open his eyes. Brian was kneeling at the end of his bed, watching them. His expression questioning, but still caught by the image before him.

Michael moaned a question, the one thing he still had a mind left to ask. "Why?"

Wrapping his arms around Michael's chest, Ben hugged him from behind. He purposefully caught Brian's eyes as he answered. "Because I love you. And because you love him." When Michael tried to turn around, Ben held him still…adding, "And me. You have the strength we both need, Michael. That he needs…."

Ben nuzzled Michael's neck, breathing in the man's scent. A moment later, he pushed Michael's pants down his hips – taking the underwear with them. He could feel Michael, how his body shook – could feel the rapid thumping of his lover's heart under Michael's skin. Kicking the discarded clothes and shoes aside, Ben ran his hand down Michael's spine – a slight sheen of sweat easing the glide.

Sensing Michael's hesitance, knowing that he must be questioning whether Ben meant what he'd said - Ben took Michael by the hand and stepped up into the room, going to the bed. He guided Michael to Brian. A beat in time, seconds lasting years as the two men in Michael's life assessed each other. They both knew that in this, Michael would be led by what they decided.

For Brian, whether by influence of his need, the alcohol or the desire to be with Michael again - he'd already decided. Having been with them both before, the knowledge of them apart only added to his anticipation of how intense they would all be together. But it was Michael he wanted.

Brian broke the intense gaze, turning to look at Michael. The man's skin was suffused with a flush that compared favorably against his pale skin. Chocolate eyes looking to Brian and Ben, as he fought for the patience to await the outcome of his fate.

Taking his friend's hand, Brian pulled him to stand before him, in front of the bed between Brian's legs. He felt the shaking as he ran his hands over Michael's hips, murmuring softly. "Mikey." He smiled as Michael shifted against him, holding onto Brian's shoulders for balance.

Speaking in a hush, as if a normal tone would break the spell - or end the dream, Michael said, "Brian. Ben. I haven't ever...." Never with two at once. And now - both men there, one standing behind him and the other in front. He couldn't think....

And then Brian took his ability to reason away with a kiss, pulling Michael down with a hand in his hair as Brian's lips transversed over delicious ground well traveled. Quick silver temptation, the touch fired his blood and left him gasping in the circle of Brian's arms. Eyes turning quickly in Ben's direction, the sight they found warring with Michael's next attempt at finding his breath.

Ben, beautiful and half bared. Watching them as he pulled his jeans open; shirt having been thrown to the floor. He kissed Michael, feeling the slick aftermath of the kiss before and then stood back to push his jeans down his hips and off. Naked, chiseled and all male – he came to press against Michael's body, against his back.

Large hands, four – all traveling over his skin. Michael gasped and closed his eyes. Brian's mouth, his lips moving over Michael's stomach as Ben's hands played over Michael's nipples. Ben's mouth, his lips following the line of Michael's shoulders as Brian's hands traced down Michael's inner thighs. Michael's grip tightened and he moaned.

Ben eyes followed his lover's reactions; the open mouth, panting chest, hard cock as it disappeared between Brian's lips and the sound of Michael's voice as he rasped out a surprised, "Ahhh." The way Michael looked in pleasure; it was something Ben had always enjoyed. Played voyeur to with great delight.

Taking Michael by the hips, Ben arched forward . . . driving his groin against Michael's ass in small thrusts that drove his lover further into Brian's mouth. They both heard Brian's groan, and Ben bit down on his lip as the sound of Michael's cry hit his ears.

"Too much, wait. I…." Michael's voice broke as he opened his eyes to view Brian's face buried against him, as he felt the suction and constriction of his throat. He wanted to hold it longer, to touch Brian – to taste him after too much time. With a force of self-will, Michael pulled away and pushed Brian back onto the bed. With a breath, he smiled. More at ease with the turn of things…. "I want to touch too."

Brian grinned as he stretched out on the bed, waiting for Michael to come to him.

Michael turned to Ben, running his hands over the sculpted chest and up his neck to pull him down to his mouth. Ben hummed into the kiss that Michael gave him, holding the man close – feeling their bodies move together. And he smiled at Michael's whispered, "I love you."

Ben answered softly, "I'm glad." He looked at Brian over Michael's shoulder, seeing his long body shining under the blue lights and catching his passion-focused eye. Looking back to Michael, Ben added, "Go touch him, baby."

Michael crawled onto the bed, settling only when he was fully atop Brian's body. He brushed back Brian's hair from his forehead, running his hands over his friend's face as if to trace each curve and line to memory. Or to retrace a memory held. Digging his hands into the hair, Michael kissed Brian as they moved against each other.

Brian's hands traveled the length of Michael's body, moving up and then down his back. Before coming to play over the firm curves of Michael's ass. He traced the crease until Michael moaned into his mouth.

Dropping his head, Michael licked at the base of Brian's throat . . . nipping it as a reminder of the effect his teeth had had in the past. Brian groaned and arched into the pressure, murmuring his assent as Michael moved to his chest. His nipples hardened, made wet with Michael's talented tongue. And again, Michael bit at Brian until the man shivered . . . his body unconsciously opening – his legs spreading until Michael lay between them – groin to groin.

"Sandman," Michael called, lifting his head to see Brian sprawled and aching. He gasped when Brian grabbed him by the hips, claiming Michael's mouth as he thrust against Michael's weight . . . their cocks sliding wetly together.

The sight of them, their bodies moving and the way they absorbed each other's passion…. Ben felt his own body respond like a live wire, witness to their play. Sharp in its intimacy, the picture of them - fantasy made flesh. "Beautiful." The word leaving him on a sharp exhale, reaction to the view.

The view – Brian lying on the bed, his leg lifting to open the way as he nodded for Michael to take him. As he said roughly, "I want to feel you again, Mikey." He kissed his friend, words passing with the sweep of their tongues. "Feel you inside."

Ben's hand, unconsciously, stroked over his hard-on as he bit back a groan. He watched with barely held control as Michael leaned over and got a condom and lube from Brian's side table. As he saw the rhythm of Michael's wrist as it worked between Brian's thighs, fingers buried to ease his entrance. Brian's loud pants echoed in Ben's ears.

With a moaned, "Do it," Brian grabbed the sheets desperately as Michael guided his sheathed cock inside Brian's body. The sense memory of how it had felt now realized once more as he took all Michael's length within. Brian shuddered at the force of how it felt; his eyes closing as his body worked to relax.

Michael stopped all motion once he was fully inside. The impulse to slam forward, to rush inside again and again as the pleasure over took him – was strong. But he wanted to savor the gift of being back home. Of being given the permission so few had known. Fire lashes traveled down his spine as sensation threatened to overwhelm his control. Closing his eyes, Michael bent his head to Brian's chest as he remained still . . . buried.

Silent predator, his own control now lost . . . Ben grabbed what he needed and went to take what he saw. To become a part of the illicitness on display.

Moving behind Michael, Ben knelt on the bed – blanketing the man with his presence but not pushing down against him. He traced the flat of his hand from Michael's neck, over the curve of his back until he reached Michael's ass. Grabbing the lube, Ben slicked his fingers and pushed two inside Michael's body without warning – the pressure solid and firm, the way he knew Michael craved at times when he wanted to FEEL taken. For it was his intent, his desire…. To take Michael as he was now taking Brian. To be the dream weaver of a living dream.

Throwing his head back, Michael sounded a cry – one filled with longing and pleasured torment. He gasped in deep breaths as he realized Ben's intent. To fuck and be fucked, the man in the middle. Michael's blood sang as his wanton desire begged forth a pleading sigh for more, for…. "Now, Ben. Please…."

Still Michael remained, as Ben pushed his covered cock into him. Catching the smaller man between the hard bodies of himself and Brian, Ben drove forward until there was no further he could go. Clutching Michael's hip and shoulder, Ben drew a breath and made to drive them all mindless with a starting thrust.

Three groans and the whirlwind sounded in their ears. Beating hearts, rasping breaths, thumping flesh as Brian was filled even as Michael was as well – the rhythm, the rhyme of their movements controlled by Ben's thrusts. He pushed forward, fiercely making Michael do so as well. Rocking them back and forth, in and out. Faster as Michael whimpered, as Brian grunted and Ben lost his reason to hold back. All he knew was Michael's flesh, his aching cock moving within and the vision of both men struggling beneath him as they fucked.

For Brian, it was the driving cock and the wide chocolate eyes that belonged to the man inside him. Michael's expression, his look of rapture and wonderment. It was all encompassing to Brian's mind, sobering to any last vestiges of his earlier intoxication. To witness his friend's pleasure, and to feel it in the way he moved. Brian clutched at the bedding, determined to stay his hands from reaching for his own cock. Wanting to ride it out as he was ridden, a thought of more filling his head.

And Michael – vessel and implement, consumed passed all coherencies. Too much, so fast and then – a scream that split the chorus of their mingled voices. Michael shuddering with a violence as he was torn from himself, bodiless even as his body crashed down with the weight of the well spent.

The sound of Michael's climax and the feel of him squeezing down – the jarring war now won through total surrender. It was the end of Ben's strength. He shouted as his body bucked under the pressure, Michael's name on his lips as he came.

Michael collapsed over Brian's body, his arms winding around the man's body as he clung to him and fought to breathe. Ben eased back after a moment, falling beside them after he'd removed their protection. Winded, but with a sense of calm that soothed him – body and mind. Looking over, he watched the two men by his side.

Michael was still inside Brian, lying on top of him as they held tight. With a deep breath, Michael pulled free – wincing as he reached down to free himself from the condom. Finished, he gasped as his wrist was seized in a hard grip. Brian's hand, shell-bracelet shining round his wrist, held firm to Michael's questing fingers . . . pulling them to his cock, hard and wet at the touch.

With his other hand, Brian pulled Michael's head back. He took the smaller man's mouth in a kiss that ended any attempt Michael may have been making at regaining his equilibrium. Speaking again into their connection, Brian growled. "My turn, Mikey. My way…."

A determined push and Brian had Michael flipped onto his back. He jerked the smaller man down until he was beneath Brian's body, Michael's hands caught in Brian's strong grip. Grinning cautiously, Michael tried to pull his arms free only to bite back a yelp as his wrists were anchored down over his head by the hands of another. Ben…. Ben holding Michael still and captive to what was to come.

Brian sat back on Michael's thighs. He met Ben's eyes, and acknowledged the memory – the flash of hands tied and Ben's enjoyment of being held down beneath him as they'd fucked years before. Another memory, the vision of how it had felt to be tied by Michael . . . and he knew what he wanted now.

To bring things full circle, to take Michael as he lay – willingly held immobile by his lover while he was wantonly fucked by his friend. Hotter than any wet dream because it was coming true.

"Sandy, please…." Michael moaned as he watched Brian lightly stroking his fingers over his own length. He wanted to be filled, to have Brian where Ben had been. Completely in need of that sensation, and beyond having the capability to question why it was happening – why Ben was giving them this, and why Brian was allowing so much to be witnessed.

Writhing against the grounding force of Ben's strength, Michael arched under Brian's weight. His own cock was hardening again, having never gone completely soft. His body was wet with sweat, covered in blue – the light playing out in contrasting shadows over his stomach muscles as they flexed and strained.

Ben's piercing eyes took in everything. He followed Brian's condom raid, he tracked the latex as it was rolled home . . . he moaned out a shuddered breath as Brian lifted Michael's legs over his shoulders. Fingers tightening, Ben's hold threatened to bruise Michael's skin– neither of them noticed in the wake of what was happening.

Brian leaned in, biting at Michael's full lip . . . licking inside before reaching down. Eye to eye, he positioned his cock at Michael's entrance. "The stuff dreams are made of, Mikey." A beat and then in….

In he went, Michael's ass pulling him as he thrust forward. And all Brian would see was Michael's mouth opening; all he could hear was the gasping groan the man released as he took Brian's cock. Shameless in the pleasure it gave him.

The rhythm was fast, rough as Brian let himself fly. He circled his hips, burying his head at Michael neck as the pressure rose. The muscles clenched him until he moaned, gasping out . . . his murmur, Michael's name said in chorus to the call of Michael's saying his in return. Brian kissed Michael, wanting to absorb the taste and the heat of him as they moved together.

Michael pressed up with his hips, his legs slipping to circle Brian's waist . . . squeezing him closer as Brian slammed against him again and again. Ben at his side, his eyes darkening. Brian above him, hazel fire staring down. Michael shook his head frantically, from one to the other. Desperate. Needing more…. Asking for it with a cry, "Please touch me, please."

And then the touch, two hands reaching down – one Brian's and one Ben's, fingers gripping Michael's cock and fingers rolling his balls. Both showing mercy even as they drove him past the point of pleasured pain. The men he loved, together – working his flesh as he whimpered through the rush. "Ben, Brian . . . ahhh." Mind cracked and body blasted, Michael screamed as his world tripped into bliss.

Brian cursed, "Fuck," as he followed into the wake of their dream's culmination. He jerked as the hot splashed covered his skin, through the roaring of his pounding heart . . . and lost his strength as he fell to cover Michael's slim frame.

Ben sucked in a breath, closing his eyes for a moment to settle his mind – dizzy with all they'd done and how much it made sense to him. Living in the now as he'd never done before, he held close the confidence that having lead Michael through to this act – having given his acceptance in its wake – that they would all be stronger for having experience it. Tomorrow was another time, and this moment – this feeling was one he didn't want to let go of as he watched Michael lying exhausted and surrounded by the men he loved.

Looking over again, Ben saw Brian pushing himself over onto his side – Michael between them. The smaller man pulled his arms, now free – down and curled onto his side to face Ben, Brian spooning against Michael's back as they rested. Drawing Ben to him, Michael kissed his lover softly. "Thank you…" he whispered before closing his eyes in sleep.

Two pairs of eyes met over Michael's head, and long was the silence that passed between them. Compromise in consideration of their natures, and for the meaning the man between them held for both. Michael's past, present and future . . . settled if not certain. At least in the now….

Finis


End file.
